


Gentle Whispers

by majou_shoujo



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Songfic, if a user named cobaltcube happens to see this, pls reupload ur old olikase fics, they were so good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29796060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majou_shoujo/pseuds/majou_shoujo
Summary: Being a Vocaloid isn't all fun and games; it's a busy life filled with stress, sleepless nights, and ridiculously high expectations. Even the snarky and self-assured Fukase is susceptible to his moments of helplessness. It's a good thing Oliver has his back.
Relationships: Fukase & OLIVER (Vocaloid), Fukase/OLIVER (Vocaloid)
Kudos: 10





	Gentle Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, I've been debating posting my fics online for years. The way I see it, there's no sense keeping them to myself. If at least one person likes them, then it'll be worth it.  
> I adore Fukase and Oliver, and I have a lot of plans for future fics with them, both sfw and nsfw.
> 
> This fic is based on the song "Yasashii Neiro/Gentle Whisper" by Dixie Flatline. I got the idea for this when I heard a fantastic Fukase cover on Soundcloud. Please feel free to listen as you read. I'm a huge fan of adding music to fics to enrich the reading experience (^ ^ ; )  
> https://soundcloud.com/v4tonio/fukase_j_soft-vocaloid-4
> 
> That being said, enjoy~

Oliver winced slightly, removing his headphones and cutting off the pre-recorded instrumental sample. As the track paused, the redhead on the other side of the soundproof glass abruptly stopped singing.

The pair of young teens had been working on this cover for a while now, but simply couldn't get a single take to work for them. This was obviously becoming taxing for the two. It wasn’t like either hated the piece in question; in fact, it was a beautiful song. The beat was smooth and bright; not droning and slow, but also not hectic. An excellent example of the Neo-Soul genre. No, the problem was the sudden deadline thrown upon the older of the two.

Why would anyone make a 24-hour deadline for one musical project, anyways? Oliver couldn’t help but pity Fukase for his miserable situation. Most producers seemed to forget that pieces, even just mere covers, took time to record and polish. The raw product needed to be blended a certain way to make it appealing to the listener. It was an art that even Vocaloids needed time to perfect. These pleas, however, fell on deaf ears, and Fukase was lumped with a last-minute cover of the song “Gentle Whisper”.

This was proving to be a challenge for the Oh-So-Amazing Fukase, who had already been piled with endless work for the past week. More and more producers were discovering the benefits of his voice and choosing him for their compositions, almost obsessively, Oliver might add. The attention was great, the stress not so much.

When Fukase approached Oliver, a jumbled mess begging for some assistance with the cover, he didn’t hesitate to say yes. He thankfully had this day free from recording and choreography, although a particular steampunk-themed producer had him booked for three days afterwards. Oliver saw this as his only chance to spend time with his Fukase, and if he could lend a hand, it’d be worth it.

The sleep-deprived android groaned heavily into the mic, pulling down his headphones and glaring at the blonde behind the soundboard. “Ugh...what was so bad about THAT take?!” He growled, rubbing his scarred cheek in exasperation.

The choir boy bit his lip, shrinking down in his seat. He knew exactly why Fukase was acting this way. Humans never seemed to get that, like them, androids did actually require rest, and like them, wouldn’t perform up to maximum capacity without it. Their sleep setting was a chance for them to reset and reconfigure, and was important for maintaining their mental and physical mechanics.

And yet, the Producers laugh when Vocaloids make these comparisons.

Fukase was grumpy, in simplest terms. Rightfully so, with all of these cruel expectations thrown his way. His anger and frustration wasn’t aimed at Oliver necessarily, but it hurt the sensitive teen nonetheless. “Nothing is wrong….technically.” Oliver started carefully. He was already treading on thin ice, and he didn’t want to upset his boyfriend any further. Although he was a pretty calm and collected person, when frustrated, Fukase could lash out and say some fairly hurtful things. Oliver had seen it happen before, but this was the first time he was experiencing it himself. He swallowed the lump in his throat and continued. “But the tone you’re projecting...it just doesn’t suit the song.”

Fukase’s piercing eyes bore holes through Oliver, as if he couldn’t believe what the other was insinuating. And yes, this was Fukase’s issue. He was far too annoyed with his predicament, and it showed in his voice. Fukase was not enjoying this song in the least.

A shame, in Oliver’s opinion.

The two hadn’t been able to spend any quality time with each other in the past two weeks. It was neither of their faults really, just the unfairness of a busy schedule. This lack of much-needed intimacy put both boys in terribly sour, but entirely different, moods.

Fukase, as predicted, was as bitter and cold as an untouched cup of coffee. His mouth constantly pressed into a tight, emotionless line that would only occasionally twist into a grimace. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, like he was trying to comprehend some awful and dated joke. It looked disturbingly close to how a Vocaloid would appear after having their stored memories wiped clean. It was nothing like the strange, silly, nonchalant redhead that Oliver proudly called his boyfriend.

Speaking of said singer, the usually chipper, cheery Oliver was feeling incredibly low as of late. Seeing Fukase in this state was eating away at his confidence as a partner, and he wanted more than anything to hug Fukase as hard as he could, but didn’t unless he became the target of an angry outburst. Instead, Oliver had to turn to the rest of the PowerFX family for the comfort he wasn’t receiving. No matter how much he tried, no matter how much he loved his guardians and siblings, those intimate moments between a couple just couldn’t be replicated in the same way.

“Look,” Fukase said with another impatient huff, “I don’t know what you’re expecting from me. I can’t get into a song like this right now…”

Oliver couldn’t blame him for saying that. The best original songs ever recorded were ones that the singer fully enjoyed participating in. It was what separated the dull, drab covers from the passion projects that Vocaloids were famous for. Hell, _“World is Mine”_ wouldn’t have been half as good if Miku hadn’t sung it with so much conviction and attitude. Every single Vocaloid had a list of songs that lit them up like fireworks; _“Pumpkin Spice Dummy”_ , “ _Tarantula”_ , and _“Starlight Keeper”_ , just to name a few of Oliver’s personal favorites. Singing them was a wonderful experience, a chance to flex their skills and stretch their voicebanks to the limit.

He could remember the first song he ever heard Fukase sing, _“Sekai no Hajimari”_. Now THAT was a song suited for such a wonderful and eccentric vocalist. It felt like yesterday, watching Fukase dance and skip around that monochrome stage, his tone bright and joyful at the sheer madness and happiness that song stood for, only to later take on a deep and sinister resonance in the following piece, a cover of _“Erikubi”_ that could send shivers down anyone’s spine. That’s probably what caught Oliver’s attention to Fukase in the first place. His versatility, his adaptability. His oddball nature, the way he never ceased to surprise Oliver with something incredible. He had NEVER produced anything less than perfection, regardless of the project.

Fukase stepped out of the cramped recording booth, joining Oliver behind the mixing board. He slumped heavily against the adjacent wall, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to loosen the obvious tension. The blonde rose to his feet as well, moving over to where his companion leaned. Seeing Fukase like this was enough to make Oliver feel teary-eyed. In all their time as friends (and later lovers), Fukase had always been precious to him. Their interactions with each other were entirely unique from anyone else's; the way they would greet each other with a warm embrace first thing in the mornings, tell each other absolutely horrible jokes for the sake of making the other laugh or cringe, and stay up until ungodly hours to talk about whatever random thing came to mind. Even before they confessed their feelings for one another, they had been basically inseparable, and their bond only seemed to grow once they made their relationship official. All of that came to a halt once concert season started. With the sudden influx of live performances and new musical projects, everyone was stuck working longer, and later, than usual. Fukase seemed to be hit particularly bad on that front recently. This lead to the pair only getting to enjoy each other's company during studio transitions and mealtimes, and even then, there was always an air of dread looming overhead, making their interactions seem so distant and unwanted. Oliver's eye scanned over Fukase's displeased countenance, each and every frown line tugging on his heartstrings. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around the frustrated male’s shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. Despite being obviously pent up and drop-dead tired, Fukase loosely replicated the gesture, much to Oliver's slight shock and relief. It was such a miniscule victory, but it lessened his anxiety to know that Fukase still cared about him enough to tolerate his touch without snapping.

“I know work’s been hard on you,” Oliver spoke softly, reaching up to cradle the scarred side of Fukase’s face in his palm, “This is a lot to dump on one person with such a short deadline. But I know you, Fufu. I know you can do this. You’ve never, ever dropped a bad song; cover or original.”

The redhead’s annoyed expression melted slightly at the familiar touch and reassuring words. He felt horrible for being so short with Oliver, the same sweetheart who volunteered to help him record the damned thing in the first place. Being nasty towards him wasn’t Fukase’s intention at all, and it certainly wasn’t going to make him feel any better. He tapped his forehead against Oliver’s in response. “If you say so, but how am I supposed to get into this? I haven’t exactly been in the best mood recently…” He grumbled. “Sorry if I’ve been an ass to you today. I really do appreciate you for doing all of this.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, alright? I know it’s just the stress talking.” Oliver paused for a moment, then playfully swayed side-to-side with his partner. “Maybe, instead of singing for the producer or the fans, you could just sing it for me? I actually really like this song. I think your voice would make it even better.” Fukase paused thoughtfully, looking down at Oliver’s kind expression, an ever-so-slight grin cracking through his stoic, pale face. His hand met Oliver’s on his cheek, and he nuzzled slightly against it.

Of course, being so close, so warm, so comforted in one another’s presence after what seemed like ages apart, it was only natural for Oliver to lean up to give Fukase a loving kiss. It was undeniably gentle, understanding, and forgiving. Clearly it wouldn’t lead to anything deeper, but right now, they didn’t need it to. It was just enough to get their feelings across. They stayed in each other’s embrace, savoring the sensation of each other's lips for as long as physically possible before hesitantly pulling away, both of their cheeks dusted with a soft shade of pink.

“All right, Ollie, I’ll try it again. But just for you.” Fukase relented, now in a considerably lighter mood than before. The blonde beamed in excitement, pushing the other towards the door, and falling back into his chair behind the soundboard. Fukase shot him one last sheepish grin and put his headphones back on, checked the mic, and waited for Oliver to start the instrumental track over. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

This Fukase was unlike any Oliver had heard tonight. He was using his Soft voicebank to its absolute fullest, his tone breathy and warm, slightly seductive and loverlike. Rather than standing stiffly, he allowed himself to move to the slow R&B beat, nodding and bobbing slightly. It was as if the previous 20+ takes hadn’t existed, and this was their first time hearing the song.

_meguri meguru mainichi ni_

_hito mo keshiki moto bissate_

_ukanda sono merodi wa_

_yubi no aida kara koboreteku_

_yoru no tobari ga orita ato_

_piano wo mae ni ikigonde_

_kanaderu oto wa toritome mo naku_

_tooi chihei ni tohou ni kureru_

It was obvious that he had finally gotten into the music, and that this was the result of genuine inspiration. Gone was the passionless singing of an ill-tempered android; this was a singer in pure bliss, the way it should be for a Vocaloid. Fukase alternated between singing with his eyes closed, taking in the wonderful music, and glancing occasionally at Oliver, who had begun to move slightly to the infectious beat as well.

_dareka no uta janai keredo_

_akogare mo meiyo mo iranai_

_ikite iku koto no imi wa_

_kitto shinu magiwa made wakaranai_

_tada hitotsu hitotsu dake_

_kono sekai ga boku ni kureta mono wo_

_boku ga inaku naru mae ni dareka_

_dareka ni tsutaetai_

It was as if Oliver was getting his very own private performance, in a world all their own. No producers, no coworkers, just the two of them. He admired Fukase’s form, practiced movements and flawless rhythm. Of course, this was a standard for all of the synths, but with Fukase it seemed so impressive. Oliver couldn’t see how anyone could be averse to someone with such an incredible voice.

_ongaku no otoshigo_

_aisare nakatta ka mo shiranai ga_

_sore demo aishite yamanai kokoro no uta_

_hikari ni atsumaru mushi no youni_

_kawa wo noboru sakana no youni_

_honou ni kizami komareta yasashii neiro_

He really was the full package, wasn’t he? Fun-loving, quick-witted, talented, and of course, good-looking. Sure, the other Vocaloids side-eyed Fukase for his strange behavior and unconventional appearance, but in Oliver’s opinion, it was what made him so charming, so unforgettable. The music hushed itself, giving Fukase’s voice the spotlight for the last lines of the song. Ruby red eyes met with the gold of Oliver’s, and with a soulful, sweet voice, he sang his mechanical heart out.

_inochi wo kureta hitotachi ni_

_naite kureta hitotachi ni_

_kono karada kieru made utau yo_

_kokoro no uta…_

As the track's outro began, Fukase, still immersed in the music, improvised a few sultry lines, making Oliver blush with the sheer sensuality of his tone. The piano solo heralding the end of the song was his cue to slowly fade the track out. The second the green recording light died, Fukase slid the headphones off, looking towards Oliver for a reaction, any at all.

Oliver leaned on the board quietly, his hands folded under his chin, propping his head up. He didn’t say a single word, but the glowing smile that lit up his face told Fukase everything he needed to know.

He got it. The perfect take.


End file.
